


Deeper Than Skin

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Insecure Derek Hale, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: So, when Stiles had rambled on about the beauty of his ass, or the perfection of his biceps, or the cut of his abs, he hadn’t minded. Not at first.





	Deeper Than Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this anon prompt: “Can I throw a mildly angsty Sterek prompt your way? Derek suspects that Stiles is only with him for his body and/or for his dick - obviously this is not going to be the case, BUT CUE ANGST AND INSECURITY.”

 

 

Derek hadn’t minded it, not at first.

Not when everything was new and casual. And he’d certainly done his own share of body appreciation in the beginning, spending long moments appreciating the curve of Stiles’ neck, or the flat of his belly, or the lithe muscling of his thighs. He hadn’t been afraid, either, to tell Stiles how much he liked his long, slender fingers or his soft, pink lips.

So, when Stiles had rambled on about the beauty of his ass, or the perfection of his biceps, or the cut of his abs, he hadn’t minded. It had even been a bit of an ego boost, the way Stiles would lose his train of thought when Derek took off his shirt, or walked into the kitchen in only a towel, or anything like that.

It had been fine.

But they’ve been together for a while now, and those are still the only kinds of things he hears from Stiles. Comments about his body, his face, and the effect they have on him. And he wonders if that’s all that’s keeping Stiles with him.

He’d been thinking about asking Stiles to move in with him, but now he doesn’t know if their relationship is even that serious for Stiles.

And now, every time Stiles says something like, “Take your shirt off, I want to see that sexy chest,” or “You have the best dick. Have I told you that? It’s perfect,” it doesn’t feel like a compliment. It just makes his heart hurt.

And he can admit he doesn’t bring much to the table—he’s emotionally reserved, not great at social interaction, and sometimes takes a while to learn new things—but that doesn’t mean he wants to date someone who only likes him for his looks.

He likes Stiles for _who he is_ , and Derek, well, Derek thinks he deserves that too.

 

*

 

But Derek keeps it bottled up for a while, trying to figure out the best way to bring it up, but it’s tough. _Do you only like me for my body?_ is always going to be an awkward question to ask. And honestly, Derek is more than a little afraid of the answer.

So he puts it off, tells himself he just needs time to strategize, tells himself he’s giving it the diligence it deserves, until he suddenly can’t put it off any more.

“Oh,” Stiles says, hands running down Derek’s chest as he kisses him. “I’ve been dreaming all day about having _all of this_ up on me.”

And Derek frowns, pushes Stiles away—not hard, he doesn’t use werewolf strength in disagreements—and steps back, blurting, “Is that all you want me for?” He tries not to sound accusatory, but he knows he probably does.

But Stiles obviously thinks he’s joking, because he smirks and says, “Come on, you know I’m fond of your…attributes.”

Derek stiffens, hurt by the flippancy. “I mean it,” he says, feeling absurdly vulnerable. This matters _so much_. “Is that really the only reason you’re with me?”

Stiles’ teasing expression drops immediately into concern. “What? Derek, I didn’t—” he begins, but Derek cuts him off, needing to get this out.

“It’s all anyone’s ever been interested in—what I look like, what pleasure they can get from my body, how they can use me. But none of them ever _care_ about me at all,” he chokes off then, takes in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Derek,” Stiles says softly, taking a hesitant step forward. “I _am_ physically attracted to you—you’re almost ludicrously good-looking, and I’ll admit that’s what drew me in, in the beginning—but that’s not _everything_ , okay? I wouldn’t have asked you out on a date if I hadn’t liked your weird, dry sense of humor. Or the way you’re willing to stay up researching with me until three in the morning. Or the way you think telling me what I _smell like_ is a _compliment_.”

“It is! Licorice and almond smell good!” Derek protests, starting to smile. His heart feels like it’s beating properly again.

“You’re ridiculous,” Stiles says fondly, shaking his head. “And that’s a really weird combination, you can’t deny that.” He takes another small step forward. “I like the way you think you’re stealthy about your late-night cuddling.” Another step. “I like the way you appreciate the small things, and how insightful and thoughtful you are.” Another step. “I like the way you always kiss me like you really mean it,” he breathes, then closes the final gap between them, pressing his lips to Derek’s.

Derek softens to it, letting his eyes slide closed as he kisses Stiles deeply, fairly trembling with happiness and relief. He really _does_ matter to Stiles, in more than a skin-deep way.

Stiles pulls back, just a little, and smiles as he strokes his fingers through Derek’s stubble, just the way Derek likes.

“I’m sorry I never told you any of this before,” he says softly. “You’re always complimenting me on my research skills, or my work ethic, or a million other things that make me feel good about myself, and I didn’t realize I was only complimenting you on shallow things in return.”

He leans in to kiss Derek again, and Derek is only too happy to let him.

“And here’s the thing—if it had only been about your body all this time,” Stiles says with a tiny, secret smile that Derek likes to think is just for him, “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.”

 And Derek—Derek is _reeling_ , because all this time he’s been trying to fight his feelings, to push them down and hide them from Stiles, so sure that Stiles wouldn’t feel the same. But now— “I love you. And I wanted to tell you, but I—” he cuts himself off, pulls Stiles in close and buries his face against Stiles’ neck, feeling steadier than he has in months.

“Now you can,” Stiles says softly, a hand folding gently over the back of his neck. “As often as you want. And I promise I’ll do the same.”

And the next time Stiles hands trace along his chest and stomach, leaving trails of heat behind, it only makes him feel good.  

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
